


Tattoo Parlour Jitters

by Proseandsongs



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: F/F, Fluff, SO MUCH FLUFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 02:26:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7783216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Proseandsongs/pseuds/Proseandsongs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an act of independence, Mabel and Pacifica are determined to get tattoos. But as the clock ticks down to their appointment, Mabel starts to reconsider her decision and wonders how she'll tell her girlfriend that she's having second thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tattoo Parlour Jitters

**Author's Note:**

> This is shameless fluff. I hope you all enjoy it!

If it weren’t for the steady pressure of Pacifica’s hand squeezing hers, Mabel would have bolted from the waiting room the second they sat down. Her fingers work around the damp drawing clutched in her freehand, wrinkling the corner of the intricately designed heart she spent the past month getting just right. She had drawn the thing out so many times, she was almost positive she could give herself the tattoo.

When Pacifica shifts in her seat, accidentally jostling her arm, Mabel glances over, searching for any signs of nerves. But Pacifica has her eyes on her phone, tapping out a message with one thumb while she continues to hold Mabel’s hand. She’s a champion, letting Mabel keep hold even when a loud metallic clang from the back room makes Mabel dig her fingernails into the flesh of Pacifica’s hand.

“Are you nervous?” Mabel asks suddenly, hoping Pacifica of all people will be able to calm her down.

Her girlfriend gives her the side eye and replies after a moment, “Of course not. It’s just a tattoo.”

Mabel wilts. “Yeah, but…I’ve never gotten one, and neither have you. Aren’t you a little scared?”

and

“Nope,” Pacifica answers, tucking her cellphone into her pocket and giving Mabel a look like she expects her to pry.

But in the face of her girlfriend’s confidence, Mabel feels silly for gripping Pacifica’s hand so tight, for squeaking a little bit when she catches sight of a man waiting on the opposite wall with a copy of the newspaper who is more ink than flesh. To show her bravery, however nonexistent, Mabel lets her fingers slip from Pacifica’s, focussing her attention on the door and holding herself stiffly to steel herself. Should only be a few more minutes now.

When Mabel’s attention wans and she starts to count the number of ceiling tiles overhead, a redheaded woman emerges from the back, wiping her hands on a cloth. In a few seconds, Mabel places her as the woman they met when she and Pacifica scoped out the place a few weeks ago; back when their tattoos were only a glimmering mirage in the distance. She had been really nice, Mabel remembered, and showed them dozens of sample designs and gave them the whole rundown on care and maintenance. But as friendly as her smile was, that didn’t quell the bubbling in her tummy.

“Mabel and Pacifica?”

The woman’s eyes land on them immediately. They’re the only ones that seem to fit those names in the joint, Mabel figures. Neither the guy covered in tattoos nor the soft grunge girl in the far corner flipping through a car magazine fit the bill.

“Mabel?”

Already on her feet, Pacifica hoists her purse over her shoulder and shoots Mabel an inquisitive look. With a shaky exhale, Mabel releases the breath she’s been holding since she released Pacifica’s hand legs. As she follows Pacifica and the woman into the back room, her mind races through the worst case scenarios that have been rattling around her skull since breakfast table this morning.

_She said it wouldn’t hurt a lot, was she lying? What if she messes it up? What if I have an ugly tattoo for the rest of my life? I'll never get a job, and then I'll be homeless, and then I'll have to learn how to skin raccoons and huddle with rats for warmth in the storm drains at night-_

“Take a seat.” The woman smiles and indicates one of two reclining leather chairs that look like the kind in a dentist’s office. Mabel nods, mute and afraid, and perches on the edge of the chair nearest the door like she’s prepared to bail at any second. She rubs her damp hands on her leggings and shudders as she gives the equipment on display the once over. It’s so cold and clinical, not at all like she expected. She had pictured something more edgy and cool, but this place looks like an operating room with no people in lab coats and better art. Eyes travelling over the murals that adorn the wall, Mabel pauses and laughs when she sees two deer with their antlers intersecting in the shape of a heart.

“Hey, maybe we should get that for our tattoos instead. We could be matching!” Mabel turns to look at Pacifica over her pointing arm and expects a snort of amusement in response. But Pacifica isn’t even looking at Mabel. Her fingers are curled around the arms of her chair, and a sickly green color has seeped into her cheeks, eyes wide as she stares at the floor.

“Paz? Are you alright?”

When Mabel reaches out for Pacifica’s arm, Pacifica jumps at the touch and Mabel snatches back her hand in surprise. After a few seconds’ pause, Pacifica’s face smooths over with her Stepford smile, an expression Mabel’s only seen in times of distress.

“I’m fine. Just thinking,” she replies.

Mabel frowns at the lie. Because no matter how Pacifica tries to dress up her nerves, it’s a clear case of cold feet. Perhaps a closer look at the equipment has had an effect on Pacifica’s courage, too.

Hesitant, since Pacifica is sensitive to anyone questioning her strength as a person, Mabel confesses in a low voice, “I’m still pretty scared, you know. I’m not sure I even want a tattoo anymore.”

Pacifica doesn’t say anything, but the way her head tilts to the side proves she’s listening. Mabel’s confidence surges and she asks, “Would it be okay if we didn’t get them today? I don’t think I’m ready.”

At the caving of Pacifica’s shoulders, Mabel relaxes.

“Thank god. I’ve been terrified all day,” Pacifica says, her voice less substantial than before.

Mabel gapes. “What do you mean? You didn’t act scared out there at all!”

“That’s because I could tell you were really nervous, but you had been so excited about it for weeks. I thought that you’d be kicking yourself later if we backed out.” Pacifica brushes back her bangs from her perspiration flecked forehead with a sigh. “I was trying to be brave for you, but I was totally freaking out. I was shaking like crazy. Why do you think I kept texting and holding your hand?”

She sticks out her hand, and sure enough, it trembles in midair like a ribbon tickled by the breeze.

Mabel settles back in her chair with a sigh of relief and shrugs her shoulders. “So I guess that’s that. No tattoos today.”

“Yeah. Do we let ourselves out, or…?”

“Oh, shoot!” Mabel slaps a hand to her forehead. “I forgot we already paid for the sitting! Think there’s any way they’ll give our money back?”

Pacifica glances through the open door toward the bright red “No Refunds” sign from the waiting room and grimaces. “Doubtful.”

Mabel blows out a breath that makes her lower lip flutter. “Then I guess this whole afternoon is a waste.”

Pacifica looks like she’s about to agree, but then she stills, eyes riveted to something on the opposite side of the room. A slow smile spreads over her lips, one that Mabel has come to equate with some of Pacifica’s best (and some of her worst) ideas.

“Maybe not,” she says, as she takes hold of Mabel’s shoulder and turns her in the direction of where she’s looking. She leans in over Mabel’s shoulder and lets her breath tickle across her ear as she asks, “Are you still interested in that piercing?”

Mabel beams. “I like the way you think.”

~

“I can’t wait to show Dipper!” Mabel exclaims once they’re on the sidewalk, angling her head to admire her reflection in the tattoo parlour window. Her new earring, a silver hoop with a crescent moon at the base, winks back at her from the upper curve of her ear.

“It’s not a tattoo, but it still looks awesome!” She turns to Pacifica for confirmation and strikes a pose. "What do you think?"

When Pacifica smiles, her nose scrunches so the diamond stud on the left side sparkles. “It suits you.”

“So does yours!”

Mabel tugs on Pacifica’s arm to pull her closer to the window so she can check her reflection, and Pacifica resists with a little laugh.

“Oh, I _know_ I look good. But let’s go show everybody else how good we look.”

Even though her ear stings a bit as they amble down the sidewalk, Mabel is all smiles, laughing when Pacifica does a perfect impression of the horrified look her mother will give her when she returns home with a jewel stud in her nose.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, please check out my account here or at proseandsongs.tumblr.com for more fic. Thank you for reading! :)


End file.
